Talkin' 'bout the car wash

Over the past month or so, I have become completely dependent upon Google Reader. But that's a story for another time. Today's story is about what one of my Google Reader updates from Etsy contained.

If you aren't familiar with Etsy, it's a burgeoning online powerhouse of handmade items. Many a fascinating product can be found on it's pages, and to keep up to date with what's new, I subscribed to their news feed on Google Reader. Usually the updates contain trinkets and accessories and sundry miscellaneous items. But today, they struck gold. And the gold was entitled, "News from craft + style."


It all started out innocently enough. A model with a pained looked here, an awkwardly posed model there. And then there was this:

And this:

I'm fairly certain these women just jumped out of a car wash.

Oh, fashion. Such a joy.

Thank you, Joanne.

Let's take a moment to talk about a little known super power. A super power housed in the largest conglomerations of countries the world round. A super power whose attributes include the ability to exchange knowledge and resources, the ability to sway a day in one direction or the other, good or bad, and the ability to evoke tears of joy and gratitude or provoke screams of anguish buried in darkest portions of a man's soul.

The super power of which I speak?

The person on the other end of the Customer Service phone line.

Over the past few days I have been trying to return a package purchased online. In order to do so, I've had to call the Customer Service line. Several times. And then some.

This process has, at times, made me question my sanity. I've talked to approximately a million different people who have all been embittered by the system. I always try to be especially nice to customer service employees because I spent a summer as a technical support representative. Consequently, I know how difficult it can be to deal with people who are calling with the sole intent to whittle you down into a weeping pile of insecurity so that you'll give them the full refund, even though you would have given it to them anyways.

So after speaking with an endless stream of jaded customer service professionals, I called one more time this morning in a final attempt to get all of my questions answered. This time I spoke with a woman named Joanne. I will probably name my firstborn after Joanne in her honor, girl or boy. She was so wonderful! She was pleasant and helpful, and I think I thanked her over one million times.

Her day started well. My day started well. Her kindness made such a difference in my morning, and hopefully my not being an irate, belligerent customer made her day a little easier too. It was a beautiful thing. 

Winter-Blues Comfort Food

Confession: I am ready for some sunshine.

I love winter. Specifically, I love snow. But since we are experiencing a snow drought here in Western NY, there's not much to love. I do not love being assaulted by life-threateningly-freezing wind gusts or taking 5 layers of clothing off when I get to the gym. This is the part of winter that can be a little miserable, even for the most ardent of winter-lovers.

What better to cure cold-weather blues than hearty comfort food? I absolutely loathe oatmeal, but really love this version using quinoa:

You know it's going to be good when Martha's involved. It's just the rule.

And...if for some reason quinoa doesn't do the trick...there's always the good ole' faithful combo of milk and warm cookies:

Since I was in dire straights of winter blues, I opted for both. It was a good decision.

Grand Theft Auto: Take Two

Dear Identical Car Owner,

Please stop parking next to me at Wegmans. And please, for the love of all that is holy, stop leaving your car unlocked. If you continue to do so, I will continue to mistakenly get into your vehicle thinking it is mine...as I did today...for the second time. Thank you.

Sincerely,

The Woman Who Keeps Trying to Steal Your Car

1, 2, 3.

1. I wish the Cheesecake Factory did deliveries (and really, why don't they? who could resist cheesecake brought directly to their door?). If that were the case I would be shamelessly devouring a gigantic slice of Oreo cheesecake right now.

2. Ice dancing? Really? It's worse than pairs. Shut it down.

3. Does anyone else want to move to British Columbia after seeing all of the beautiful scenery at the Olympics (and on the semi-lame, super-frequent commercials)? Vancouver, here I come.

3b. Does anyone else feel bad for the second guy in the two-man bobsled? All he does is run and duck, and no one ever talks to him during the interviews. To all of the backseat bobsledders: way to go!!!

I like cheese

So because it is winter break we have had about a thousand prospective students visiting our hallowed halls this week. With an individual visit comes an interview with your admissions counselor, along with an information session for your whole family. This morning I interviewed a student and then brought her mom and 5 year old brother back for the info session. The poor little guy was trying so hard to be content while imprisoned in a tiny room with no entertainment, so he kept himself busy by writing a letter. To his mom. It said:

"Dear Mom,

I like cheese."

It made me laugh out loud. All day long. And it made me so appreciate a childlike worldview. I love it that kids are so much better at noticing and embracing the real stuff of life than adults are. Jesus knew what he was talking about when he told us to have faith like a child. It makes sense.

In honor of my new young friend, I think I'll make macaroni and cheese for dinner. Just because I like it. 

Color-Coded Career

When I saw this test touted on another blog I was beyond skeptical. Color choices as a career predictor? Really? Didn't we move past that after first grade? Isn't that what I just went through four years of college to figure out? But, as a lover of all things colorful and informative, I went ahead and took the test.

The results were eerily accurate. Seriously...I'm a little freaked out. My top two primary occupational categories were a tie - equal parts Researcher (Independent, Self-Motivated, Reserved, Introspective, Analytical, and Curious) and Creator (Nonconforming, Impulsive, Expressive, Romantic, Intuitive, Sensitive, and Emotional), with Organizer (Self-Control, Practical, Self-Contained, Orderly, Systematic, Precise, and Accurate) as a secondary occupational category. It's like they've been watching me.  

So, bring on the first grade ideology and throw college out the window (again). And take the quiz! It's so interesting!

L-O-V-E

In honor of the Day of Love, here's a special Valentine's Day edition of Things That Made Me Laugh Out Loud (in classic Ross style):

This is embarrassing...

As a flashback to the schooldays of yore, here's a word problem for you:

If Beka has a hair appointment at 2:15pm in her hometown that is four hours away from the town where she lives now, what time does she need to leave in order to be there on time?

a) 10:15am
b) 11:15am
c) 2:15pm
d) I don't know but I see where this is going and it's not good...

I chose b. I chose b without a second thought and in full faith that I would arrive at my destination on time. It was only until I counted the hours backwards on my fingers during the drive home that I realized, with pained groans, that I was going to miss my first hair cut in 7 MONTHS (thank you, admissions, for that sad fate). Not only do I still look like a beast, now I mirror both the appearance and education of a cavewoman.

Needless to say, I'm rescheduling my appointment. And stopping payment on my college loans.

Good call.

This:

 

Plus this:

Plus walking to work = one of the worst ideas I've ever had. But I just couldn't trudge through another day of pants and sweaters...so the skirt won, although I, in the end, lost (all feeling in my lower limbs).

New rule for skirt-wearing: Above-freezing temperatures only.

Something's missing here...

Every day there's one application that throws me for a loop. Today, it was this one:

Indicate first major: Undecided
Indicate second major: Undecided
Indicate minor: Music
Indicate career plans after graduation: Probably become a nurse.

Sure. That makes sense.

Oh dear.

This is not normal...

 

I made these. Recipe courtesy of life:beautiful magazine, heart shape courtesy of me. Seriously. The whole time my brain was shouting, "Don't do it!!! Today it's heart-shaped cookies for Valentine's Day! Tomorrow you'll be wearing PINK! And then before you know it you'll be reading Nicholas Sparks novels and crying at chick flicks! It's a slippery slope!!!"  And yet, I carried on. I made heart-shaped cookies.

And then I made these:

Because I needed an antidote. And because it's Super Bowl Sunday (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), my absolute favorite day of the entire year right after Christmas.

And now it's finally time to start rolling out the food while continuing to bask in hours of pre-game coverage. Such a beautiful thing.

The White Trash Dilemma

I have a question.

What do you call this:

I've always labeled it under the derogatory pseudonym "White Trash." Now this is all fine and dandy when all you have to do is bring it to a party and leave it on a table. No harm, no foul, no speaking of the awkward nickname. But I made some the other day and brought it in to work to leave in the copy room for anyone passing by. Since I felt the need to label it so that people would know it was theirs for the taking, I adorned it with the post-it, "White Trash - Help Yourself!!!" which was not exactly the sentiment I was going for. However, I wasn't about to write, "Stuff covered in white chocolate - help yourself!" on a post-it note, because let's face it, that's even less appetizing than White Trash.

If anyone has a politically correct name for the snack pictured above, please share. And please share soon, so this topic will stop boggling my mind.

Unexpected Authenticity

So, here's the deal: every morning when I go to the gym, there are about three or four other people there, and all of them are men. Abiding by the first rule of the Female Survival Guide, I don't talk to any of them, let alone make eye contact. It's just not a great idea. So this morning when I got off the treadmill and realized there was only one other guy in the gym and he was on a bike directly behind me, I was a little ill at ease and was planning on making a quick exit. But after I wiped down the treadmill I offered him the remote so as not to be a complete and total jerk before leaving at lightening speed. He politely declined, saying that he was quite content watching Sports Center. Two points for good taste in television. I was about to bolt when he asked me who I would be rooting for on Sunday. This led into a lengthy discussion on all things NFL, which I actually appreciated quite a bit. I turned to leave again when he started asking more questions - how I became a Packers fan and where I grew up and why I ended up here, etc. For the most part I operated under the second rule of the Female Survival Guide: don't give out any personal information. However, I softened up after we had spent a few minutes talking and he mentioned that daughter goes to Roberts. Two more points for good taste is colleges. He talked about his family so enthusiastically and told me all about his wife and kids and how they ended up in Rochester and where they're all going to college. He asked me if I had ever met his wife or kids here at the gym, and since I hadn't he insisted that I should meet them soon. It was so easy to see that his family means everything to him, and he never even said it out loud but he never had to. It was evident in every aspect of his demeanor. At this point I started to feel bad for judging him and throwing him in the Typical Man pile. I also started to feel bad that he was being so nice to me while I was standing there looking like I had been chased through the streets by dogs under torrential downpours, as per my post-morning-run look.

After a few more stories I shook his hand and sincerely thanked him for taking the time to talk. Right before I headed out the door we started talking about the Colts without Tony Dungy and he asked me if I had ever read Dungy's book, Quiet Strength. I told him I hadn't but that it was on my list to read this year. And then he said this: "Oh! See my Taurus right there? I have it on CD in the console. The door's open, just go right ahead on in and take it." I laughed, thinking he was kidding. But he said, "No, no, seriously! Go ahead and take it." This is a man who had known me for all of 10 minutes. Not only was he trusting me with his possessions, he was trusting me to go into his unlocked car and take his possessions. And not because he wanted to look good or impress anyone, but because he honestly wanted to share something that had been a blessing to him with another person. And that was the most authentic display of Christianity I've seen in a long time.

It was just like when he was talking about his family - he wasn't adorned with Christian paraphernalia of the bracelet or t-shirt variety; he never told me what Jesus wants me to do or how disgusted God is with America; he didn't incorporate well-known keywords into the conversation so I would know through code that he is a member of Club Christian. The love of Christ was evident in every aspect of his demeanor. The verses that came to my mind after our interaction were from Romans 12:   

⁹Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. ¹⁰Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. ¹¹Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. ¹²Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. ¹³Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality. 

Here was a man who was truly living these verses. He blessed me with his generosity, but even more so with his authenticity. I want to be more like him because he showed me what it looks like to be more like Jesus. 

What a wonderful start to the day.